


Day 16: Masturbation

by hannahrhen



Series: Tag-Team: 30 Days of Steve/Bucky Porn [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: BDSM discussion, Circle Jerk, Come Eating, Cracker Game, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky play the Cracker Game. Bucky changes the rules a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 16: Masturbation

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to all my guy friends in HS who used to torment each other by discussing the [Cracker Game](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=CrackerGame). Meanwhile, I just sat there with a thoughtful look on my face. Seeds = sown!
> 
> Borrowing the panties from [Melonbutterfly's Day 7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1827457).

Steve didn’t get drunk, so there was no excuse for this.

At least that’s what he protested to Bucky, when Bucky proposed the idea on a long, empty afternoon, when Bucky looked at him with a suggestive smirk and a dare in his eyes.

Steve kept shaking his head, chuckling a little, even snorting, as Bucky laid out the rules. When he heard the last one, though: “But that’s not … that’s not how it’s supposed to be played.”

“Oh, you know how it’s supposed to be played, then?” Bucky teased, and Steve shook his head.

“Not like that--I mean … I thought the guy who … you know, _came last_ ,” and he said the last two words quietly, like someone might be listening (an actual risk in the tower), “was the one who--”

“My game, my rules,” Bucky cut in, and spelled them out again:

One: Cracker in the middle of the (freshly cleaned) wood floor.

Two: On their knees, equidistant from the target. “‘Equi--,’” Steve started, amused, and Bucky hissed at him to _shut it._

Three: Once they started, they couldn’t stop. “Hand keeps moving, Steve,” like Steve was the one who was gonna cheat at masturbation. “Fine.”

Four: Once they started, no moving the cracker.

Five: Once they started, no changing the rules.

Six: Whichever one of them came first (“It’s not supposed to be first, Buck,” and, _“Shut it”_ ), ate the cracker.

“I just don’t get how this isn’t gonna go on forever.” Steve was still protesting, even when both of them were kneeling on the floor, shirts ruched up and pants and underwear shoved down their thighs. Each was manipulating his own cock to hardness before the “game” officially started.

“I dunno,” Bucky placated. “Eventually someone’ll get hungry, right?” and Bucky had earned a suspicious glare. “Let’s go, Stevie.” He tossed the lube to Steve, who caught it single-handed.

And that was the cue.

The first few minutes passed in silence--not total silence, as there was still the sound of palms slapping dicks, the slick-wet sound of lube getting caught between fingers as it eased the way. Steve looked at the cracker, just sitting there on the shiny floor, and then at Bucky, who was biting his lip and … just looking at Steve.

He tried really hard not to look at Bucky’s dick as it was worked in his fist. Steve Rogers wasn’t going to lose this (weird) game. Supersoldier stamina, and all that. So, yeah, the first few minutes passed in silence, and Steve knew he’d been right--this was gonna go on forever--and then Bucky began to speak:

“You know what I was thinking about earlier today?”

And if Steve’s body temp suddenly blazed up a few degrees--if a hot flush burst onto his cheeks--well, Bucky’s voice had that effect on him. Especially _that_ voice.

Steve groaned, already reassessing his odds of victory, and Bucky gave his most innocent look … which was not very.

Blithely, and with a hint of a smile, he meandered on like he wasn’t pumping his own cock with his slippery fist. “Things have gotten a little predictable--you know, Stevie, in the bedroom.” And Steve couldn’t not shoot him a look at that.

“No, listen to me, seriously. I mean, it’s all good, puttin’ it to you on the regular, and when you slide that thick dick of yours into me--”

_“Buck--”_

“No, shhh. Shut it, please.” And he was all serious, pondering his words like he was delivering a lecture. “When you slide that thick dick in, practically up to my throat, it’s pure heaven, Stevie, you know that, right?”

And Steve was going to slow his hand down any minute, or stop for more lube. They could stop for more lube, right? Was that one of the rules?

And somehow Bucky’s voice had gone darker in the breath between. “But there are other things we can do, you know--dirtier things. Know what I mean, Steve?” And Steve shuffled a little on the hard floor, and he was going to loosen his grip any minute now, because--

“What do you think about panties, Steve?”

Oh, Jesus. _What._ “Bucky, you didn’t say anything about talking,” desperately. And Steve was suddenly warming up even more.

“I didn’t say anything about _not_ talking, either, huh?” Bucky pretended to think about it, and Steve could have smacked that face, or kissed him. Bucky’s dick was as hard and angry-looking as Steve’s--he’d dared to peek--but Buck talked just cool as you please, like they were sitting around the breakfast table and not--

“Sometimes I think about you in panties, Steve, little black ones. Wearing nothing else, you know?” And Bucky dreamily ran his thumb in a circle over his cockhead twice, shuddered a bit, and kept going. “They make ‘em for men, so that when your dick gets hard and heavy, like yours is now, the lace still covers you up, you know? Keeps you tucked inside until I let you out?”

Steve’s hand tightened on his cock before he stopped himself--before he made himself slow down again. Bucky hadn’t said anything about keeping it slow, and, hell, no, he wasn’t gonna lose. Quickly, during the pause, he tried to jump in, “Buck, do you think we can--”

And “not do that, please” might have been next, except Bucky just talked right over him. “Just trying to work some things out, Stevie. ‘Cause, like, I can picture you just like this, on your knees on the floor, with nothing on but those panties, your hard dick reaching out like it is now, but trapped inside that lace, and … I dunno, I'm thinking maybe you’re a little too naked?”

Steve whined. And Bucky kept on talking. “So’s I might, you know, need to add some handcuffs to the mix, to keep you from getting yourself out and doing what you’re doing now, just shoving your hand frantically into those little panties to give yourself some relief, you know? Because I ain’t ready for you to do that yet.”

Bucky went all Brooklyn when he got dirty, and it did things to Steve, the patter, the accent. _He loved it._ He twisted his grip around his shaft and shivered. “Bucky, come on, please--”

“Yeah, that’s what you’d say, Stevie, when your hands are behind your back, but that’s awful distracting for me, you know, so I’d probably have to gag you.”

And Bucky was staring at Steve hard now, just right at his face, like they weren’t both just going to town on their dicks below, like that goddamned cracker wasn’t sitting there, the world’s most innocuous target, waiting to be topped.

The wet, slapping sound of fists on cocks and his heart pounding in his ears were the only things Steve heard, until Bucky started talking again.

“They make these round gags, you know--ball gags--and I could get a nice big one to shove in your mouth to keep you from arguin’ with me about it. I’ll bet it would make even your jaw ache, Stevie, you know, when I tighten the straps around your head to hold it in place. You might even think twice, but your hands are in those nice strong cuffs behind you, and you’re gonna let me do what I want, right? You like to let me do what I want, doncha, Steve?”

Steve almost answered--almost--but he set his jaw _(God)_ and kept his mouth shut firm. Felt the telltale tension taking root in his stomach, just behind his navel, and, fuck, he had to spread his knees because that just made it _better._

Made it _so much_ better. “Then what,” he asked before he realized he was opening his mouth.

“You need more lube, Steve?” And that smile was all grade-A Barnes asshole, and Steve loved it. Loved him.

 _So much._ Jesus.

“Then what, Buck,” Steve just repeated, his voice offering its own challenge.

“Well,” and Bucky pretended to think about it. “Your tits are awful nice, Steve,” and …  

 _Sweet baby Jesus._ Steve pinched his mouth shut to hold in the groan.

“Right now, for example, I can see how hard they are under your shirt.” Which made Steve actually look down, a terrible mistake because he hadn’t realized how much precome was leaking from the head of his dick, and what his cock would look like glistening with so much lube and being worked viciously by his fist while his best friend watched.

His nipples were practically jutting out from his shirt, though--Bucky wasn’t lying.

“They’ve always been so sensitive, Stevie, like a woman’s. I just love playing with them, makin’ ‘em hard, you know, like your dick is right now.”

And Steve was gonna lose, no question about it--Bucky looked hot and bothered, and his breath was coming fast, but Steve … Steve was gonna lose, and he was starting to _want to._

“So there you are, on your knees, on the floor,” and, oh ... oh,  _God_ , “in those tiny black panties over your huge, throbbing dick, your wrists in the handcuffs, your mouth stretched wide open with that gag stuffed inside--”

And Bucky made a little noise, finally, had to stop talking to pull himself together, but he did it with a visible effort. Steve was slumped now, eyes falling shut, leaned back on his own heels, letting himself enjoy the long, hard pulls on his erection and the-- _God_ \--the sound of Bucky’s perfect asshole's voice.

“But your titties need a little something, too, don’t they, Steve?” He allowed Steve the space of a moan, and someone … _someone_ groaned a yes, deep and graveled.

“So, you know how they have those little clamps that open up all easy and then pinch good and tight when they close?” And Steve knew--yeah, he fucking knew. “I’d play with your tits for a little while, get ‘em all hard and pointing at me, like your cock right now, Steve, and, man, that looks fine. You’re just dripping, ain’t ya? Just soakin' wet.” And Bucky at least grunted this time, obviously liking what he was seeing, and when Steve opened his eyes briefly, he saw that Bucky’s long hair was swaying into his face, his head hanging down a little, but, oh, he was staring at Steve, gaze bright and avid. They didn’t take their eyes off each other.

“Then what?” Steve asked, the words suggested more by the movement of his mouth than actual successful sound. Steve was gonna--was gonna shoot all over that cracker, just in a sec, couldn't stop it now if he tried, but first he wanted to hear Bucky say it. Say it all.

“Oh,” and Buck’s own voice was shaking loose, his rhythm going uneven, but he pushed on. “I’d take one of those clamps, and then the other, and put ‘em good and tight on your sensitive little nips, Stevie, just for decoration,” and the rest of the sentence was forced out like the words didn’t want to come, like saying it was too much work for Bucky’s sweet, dirty imagination. “And maybe run, you know … run a little chain in between ‘em, just to make ‘em pretty? _Prettier,_ you know? Make you such a work of art, Stevie, just there for me to do anything I want to you, and ... and you don’t even _know_.”

He gasped for a breath, and his hand was streaking over his cock, but no faster than Steve’s own, no. Steve’s was a blur, and he was so, so close, and he didn’t even give a fuck. “What do you think?" And Steve was going to-- _he was going to_ \-- But Bucky was _still talking._ "How would it feel to have that chain tugging on your swollen little nips, hurting 'em just a little, slapping against your chest when I’m behind you with your knees spread wide and my dick ramming into your--”

And that was _it._ That was-- _God_ \--fucking _it,_ as Steve slammed forward to catch himself on his free hand, kneecaps squeaking across the wood, and, with a broken howl of Bucky’s name, blew his load all over that innocent saltine, striping it again, and again, and again with great gobs of his hot come.

Bucky, it was some consolation, was _right_ after him.

They were on hands and knees on the floor after, shaky and catching their breath, heads just touching in the center of their (barely a) circle, and Steve--Steve had something to do. With just a little trepidation, he reached for the glistening cracker.

“ _Uh-uh-uh_ \--no moving it, remember?” And there was the jerk Steve loved.

He huffed and looked up into Bucky’s cheerful face. “Really?” he said drily.

“It’s the rules, Steve.” He shrugged like there was nothing he could do. Of _course._

So Steve Rogers bent low, palms settled on the floor, and caught that filthy hors d’oeuvre on the flat of his tongue while Bucky Barnes snorted at him and ruffled his hair.

_Asshole._

Too bad he always had such good ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry? Goodness gracious.
> 
> [Find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com)!


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